


And Then There Was… John

by Sherlock1110



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Beads, BDSM, Butt Plugs, CBT, Cock Cages, Dom John, Dom Molly, Domme/sub, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Gen, Handcuffs, Kneeling, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Punishment, Restraints, Sounding, Sub Mycroft, Sub Sherlock, crawling, sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:52:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7510820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is Molly's submissive. She treats him how an abusive owner treats their dog. Who, if anyone, will step in and rescue poor Sherlock?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have chosen not to put warnings on this fic on purpose as it'll spoil some things. It will be quite heavy in places, not all of it may be consensual and yes it has me feeling guilty for poor Sherlock. But please DO NOT leave negative comments. If you don't like it, move on, thank you

Sherlock stared down at the ground. He was wet and cold. He could just imagine seeing his coat on the hook of the door to Molly's if it opened. But Molly hadn't left him that, she never left him his coat. He'd been there since that morning. Molly had pushed him to the floor on his knees and cuffed him to the fence post opposite the house, then she'd gone off to work, barely a glance in his direction. It had rained earlier. It was the first time he'd ever been left out in the rain but he supposed Molly was very mad with him. His knees had frozen solid and he couldn't feel his feet or his toes anymore.

A car went passed and splashed him, but he didn't have the energy to yell abuse at it. He wanted Molly. Wanted to say sorry for whatever it was he had done, but she wasn't here.

It was better kneeling here than outside Baker Street. Outside Baker Street people knew him, here nobody did.

A car pulled up outside Molly's and she climbed out, then the lift drove away. She looked over at him and then turned to unlock the door.

Sherlock whimpered when the door shut with Molly inside.

He'd be left outside even longer then.

***

It was dark by the time Molly came out. He hoped it was to get him and not do something even worse. She stormed across the road and cupped Sherlock's cheek. He was well and truly cowed. She raised her hand and slapped him hard, he barely moved.

Molly reached down behind him where the cuffs were and unbuckled them.

“You've been pulling at them, doggy.”

Sherlock didn't answer. He hadn't been told he could.

“If you weren't such a little shit I wouldn't have to tie you out here, would I?”

“No, Mistress,” he croaked out. It had been about 12 hours at least since he'd been dumped there, his throat was raw from the cold and for once he was actually hungry.

Molly glanced up the road to check for traffic and then stuck her hand in his curls pulling him upright. His knees cracked painfully, she even elicited a slight wince for the boy.

“I'll allow you on your feet to cross the road, doggy.”

“Thank you, mistress,” he murmured as she tugged him across, it was clearly so he wouldn’t slow her down. His knees screamed pain at him but he had to ignore it. He always had to ignore it. Molly didn't care.

Molly heard the gratitude in Sherlock's voice and smirked. It looked like he was perfectly subdued for now.

She locked the door behind them and ordered Sherlock to strip. He complied immediately even though his teeth chattered with the cold. He supposed it helped marginally because his suit trousers and shirt were wet.

“You can eat and sleep in your kennel.”

Sherlock whimpered, that meant eating from the dog bowl and sleeping in a cage in a dog bed. “Yes, miss,” he murmered, he hated the kennel, but he daren't voice that. She already knew anyway. That was why it was the perfect punishment.

He bowed his head contritely and she ruffled his curls. Sherlock preened under that bit of attention but then she tugged his head back sharply and slapped him, he whimpered again.

“Miss-”

“Shut it, you little shit, I allowed you to stand as you crossed the road. That is far too much comfort you've been allowed already. Now get in the kennel!” She barked and with those passing words she disappeared, not willing to give off any more affection, she was still very mad then, Sherlock noted, flinching.

He hadn't been made to use the kennel in a long time. He didn’t even know what he had done wrong. But even so she had over reacted. She always over reacted. Just because he hadn't been in his kennel for a few weeks didn't mean he hadn't been punished on a regular basis. Molly liked to tie his collar to the floor and his arms to the hook in the ceiling and leave him. That was even more uncomfortable than kneeling on cold wet pavement for 12 hours straight with no respite. She liked to cane him and beat him. She liked to tie him up with a large dildo thumping inside of him at a million miles an hour.

Grumbling to himself he crawled through to the kennel, knowing better than to get to his feet.

He quickly ate the food in his bowl, it was whatever Molly had had leftover from dinner mashed up. He hated punishment time. He hated mashed food. He hated being alone. But he couldn't remember the last time Molly had actually been nice to him. He closed his eyes as he finished, sighing softly to himself as he backed up to the dog bed.

It was only a few minutes later when the door opened and the light flicked on. Sherlock blinked away from it, his eyes already settled to the dark.

In Molly's hands was a set of Anal beads… well, balls really they were the size of a golf ball and there were at least 5 of them.

She held the cock cage and harness in the other hand.

“Real dog time, you deserve everything that's about to happen, don't you, insolent shit?”

“Yes, miss,” he whispered, eyeing the balls in her hand with apprehension.

She moved to the chest of drawers and pulled out the matching cuffs to his collar.

She pulled open the cage gate, “get out and go and lay on the bench.”

Sherlock scrambled across the room and settled himself over the bench. She attached the cuffs first and then buckled his wrist ones to the floor so he was pulled right over.

Before he knew what was happening Molly's finger was in his hole. She worked it open with minimal lube. Then the balls were there pressing against the tight ring of muscle at his arse. He wanted to argue, to ask for more lube but he daren't. With a thump the first ball slid in. Sherlock could feel it in his insides. The other balls were running down the crack of his arse and Molly began working in the second one. Sherlock couldn't help but moan as the second one knocked into the first directing it over his prostate.

“Shut it, slut!” Molly snapped, she moved to the side and grabbed a muzzle with a dildo on the inside. “Open,” she hissed. He didn't have a choice as she rammed it into his mouth pulling the straps around the back of his head and attaching the front one to his collar. “Now you can be a good doggy.”

She went back to the job of working in the balls. They took less and less time because Sherlock's hole was getting looser the more it was played with.

Eventually all the balls slotted into place, and a thick butt plug pushed in behind to bridge the gap a large ridge on the inside to stop Sherlock trying to expel it in the mean time. It was the last chances of escaping the onslaught for Sherlock.

As soon as he was spun over and tightly restrained again Sherlock knew he was in trouble. Within the next 30 seconds there was ice pressed against his hardening cock. He whimpered and bit down on the dildo as he felt his dick shrivel.

Molly placed a syringe at the tip of his member and he felt something cold shoot down his cock. She began to work the tip open with a small metal rod. “I think this one’s a little small, don't you?” She looked up at his panicked, sweat stained face as she swapped the sounds over and placed an even bigger one so it was resting at the tip. She began to lower it inside, letting gravity do most of the work.

The boy squeezed his eyes shut tight trying to hide from the weird sensations. At least he could say he wasn't hurt yet. The balls felt weird and so did this thing inside his cock but he could cope with it all so far.

When Molly was satisfied it had sunk as far down as it would go she placed a small cap on the end, sliding a metal cage over the top and down to his sack.

Before she tied it off she waved a rubber studded ring it was about an inch wide and 1/4 inch thick. “Do you know where this is going, slut?”

Sherlock shook his head in fear. He felt it attached to the base of the cage and then the studs wrapped around his bollocks.

She rolled and pinched the now tight sacks, tugging and tightening the ball stretcher.

“Having fun, slut?”

Sherlock tugged at the cuffs, knowing there was no way he would pull free, he had been in this position plenty of times before and hadn't escaped it yet.

He bit down hard again as his waist was lifted easily and a belt was wrapped around him, in a few seconds he had felt the plug pressed in and his cock fitted through a hole in the belt that separated his legs.

Happy her dog was as uncomfortable as she wanted, Molly untied him and dragged him back to the kennel.

Sherlock felt completely full, no chance of respite anywhere as the gate was slammed shut and locked with a padlock.

“Oi, puppy, put your hands up through the bars.”

Shifting around so he was sat back on the hard butt plug, knocking into the interior plugs he obeyed her and pushed his hands up, she snapped the cuffs together with a karabiner, leaving him on his full arse.

“Night, doggy!” She called cheerfully.

He didn't want this. He didn't want Molly. He wanted Mycroft. He was sorry, so sorry, but Mycroft wasn't here. He would never be here. Not anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft had been having a perfectly acceptable morning until he had reached his club and asked for any news on his brother.

So the brat had been punished yesterday. Again. He was an embarrassment to the family. All he did was get in trouble. Just thinking about the problems he used to cause at home made him cringe.

He'd raised his eyebrows slightly at the security footage. 12 hours on his knees in a street was a bit much… especially with the rain. Maybe he should check on Molly… check that his brother hadn't been running her ragged and that she didn't need a break from him. He sighed, telling the man behind the desk he needed a car tonight after his meetings and that he wouldn't be around for a few hours.

He knew from experience that on a Saturday Molly never went out and neither did Sherlock. The front door was constantly monitored and the back door led to a dead end, but was also alarmed.

He sighed, these meetings couldn't come and go quickly enough.

***

Sherlock whimpered as he awoke the following morning. Despite his position, he had managed to get a few hours sleep. Enough to allow him to face the day energised rather than weak and pathetic.

He flinched when the door to the room opened, it was rather early for Molly. Especially on a Saturday.

“You're going to enjoy today doggy, a continuation of your punishment. The local D/s club that we have been to a few times are having a get together. I thought taking my doggy would be a great way to humiliate you.”

Sherlock tried to raise his head, but his neck was stiff. Molly kicked open the cage gate after uncuffing his wrists from the bars.

“I am going to take that out of your cock so you can go for a pee in the dirt tray, but the other hole stays filled. Don't worry, doggy, your pee hole won't stay empty for long.”

The boy managed to keep himself still as Molly wiggled the sound from his cock. “I think we can slide a bigger one down there when you're done.”

She allowed him a few minutes (not in privacy) to pee in the small box in the corner before she pointed at the bed in the corner.

“On your back.” He half walked, half hobbled over to it and fell down like it was the end of the world.

She wrapped her hand around his cock, a bigger sound already in her hand. She didn't give him much of a chance to complain as she began to ease it into him. When she was satisfied it was plugged away again, she smacked his thigh. “Get up. Put your sluttiest outfit on and wait for me by the door. Don't worry, you won't be clothed long.”

***

As they entered the D/s club, Molly grinned at all her friends. They had been people she had brought together, people that liked to be rough with their submissives whether they liked that themselves or not. It meant she could do whatever she liked to her brat and wouldn't get criticism. Around them knelt their own subs, one was even in the corner, his red arse on display.

“Breeding stand, boy,” she ordered her own sub immediately.

He wobbled on unsteady feet as he made his way over to it. She'd taken his clothes away the second they'd entered the building. The stand was similar to the bench back at Molly's, but this did more. He'd never been on it himself, but he'd seen other unfortunates drained completely on it.

Cuffs were tied off tightly to keep Sherlock's arms well out of the way from the start.

He soon found his nipples being played with. He enjoyed the gentle flickering - he always had, but Molly pinched and pulled at them until someone placed a pair of clover clamps in her hand. She ensured the chain went around the bars in the bench so he could only push himself up on straight arms if he wanted his nipples crushed beneath stiff metal teeth.

Next, his cock was dealt with, the new sound was removed momentarily for Molly to replace it with something larger again. This rod was plastic and hollow, more of a tube really.

“When we're done here I'm going to plug this up and you'll only ever be able to pee when I want you to. What do you think of that, brat?”

She smirked when he averted his eyes. She still hadn't gotten around to removing the dildo gag jutting down his throat.

His ankles were tied down next, along with his knees so he couldn't fight. Like he would anyway.

She tapped at the plug wedged in his arse, holding the metallic balls in.

“I wonder how comfy it would be for you if I was to leave those balls in side of you while the machine fucks you?”

Sherlock flinched at the thought and knew he'd made a mistake. Molly smacked his arse as she removed the plug quickly. Sherlock's hole tried to collapse in on itself, but he'd held a wide plug for over 18 hours, it was impossibly loose. She didn't leave him empty long, she wheeled the machine up behind him and placed the fake cock at his entrance.

“Good doggies relax their hole for their mistress.”

Sherlock tried to relax, he did, but his nipples were yanked with every movement and he couldn't think of anything except that thing pressing his cock out from the inside.

“Relax or don't relax, doggy, I don't care, this is going into you either way.”

She left the machine pressing up against his arse and moved around to pull the gag out. Sherlock worked his jaw momentarily, weakly, but remained looking at the floor.

”Head up, doggy,” she ordered, wheeling around a proper dildo on a pole. She grabbed some bottled water and squirted some into his mouth.

“Thank you, miss,” he whispered.

“Open.”

His mouth was soon invaded with the cock on a pole, far longer and far less forgiving than the gag had been.

At the moment he couldn't think who he hated more. Molly or Mycroft. Mycroft had left him to this. Told him it would be alright, Molly loved him she could never hurt him and she was a fantastic Domme. All she was fantastic for was making him as uncomfortable as possible for as long as possible.

He grunted as the machine thumped into him from behind.

He closed his eyes, he wasn't in pain. Yet. The balls knocked around inside of him, even more so on every thrust. Molly bent down and began to prod his stomach. His whimper was caught by the dildo he was being forced to deep throat.

“It's fantastic.” She actually laid herself down beside him to flick and pinch his confined cock between the bars. 


	3. Chapter 3

The walk back home was not the easiest thing for Sherlock to accomplish and doing it without making a sound was even harder.

He knew now that any touch of love Molly may have felt when he'd signed the contract 2 years ago had long since disappeared. He wasn't her sub anymore. He was her slave. He hadn't signed _that_ contract.

She dragged him by the collar, up and over the back wall, he fell to the floor choking until she let him go. At least he was empty, the feeling of the half dozen balls that had been shaking around in his arse had been nearly too much to bear. He wasn't even plugged. For once.

Molly shoved Sherlock into the house through the kitchen. The boy's arms were forced up his back and tied to the stiff posture collar around his neck. He could barely stand and was absolutely exhausted on top of aching everywhere. If he'd been more aware of his surroundings he would have been able to deduce what had happened in their absence.

“Kennel, boy.”

“Miss…” he choked out. “Please may I have a drink, miss?”

“After the way you've acted today!” She barked. “You looked at Sally and proceeded to whimper the whole way home, despite my specific instructions.” Sherlock's cock was red raw as she wrapped her hand around it. “You even yelled out when I whipped your cock. I warned you the consequences of disappointing me, didn't I?”

“Yes, miss.”

“So is this at all unjustified?”

Yes! “No, miss.”

“I didn't think so, doggy. Kennel. Now! Do not make me drag you down those steps.”

“Sorry, miss,” he murmured as he hobbled off towards the stairs. At least his cock wasn't caged anymore. Although he would have much preferred it to be caged than to orgasm 7 times and then have it whipped afterwards... that had been overboard even by Molly’s standards  

“And if I hear another word out of you I'll remove the bed from your kennel and I won't let you out.”

Sherlock missed his bed upstairs in Molly's room. It wasn't with her, but it was far softer and not on the floor - it was on a few wooden planks. It was enough to call his.

***

Mycroft had made sure to drop by that evening only to find the house empty. As he had already checked the security feeds nobody had gone in or out - via the front door, at least. The back door, which he failed to realise had had the alarm Mycroft had placed on it inactivated - removed by expert fingers - Sherlock's expert fingers. That ungrateful brat! It was to protect him, not like he wanted nor deserved his protection, it was for the family name, Mycroft told himself.

Before he got the chance to explore the apartment, he heard the back door key enter the lock. Something didn't sit right in his chest, so he quickly nipped through to the sitting room, lowering himself into the chair beside the door, not visible from the back of the house.

He sat and he waited. And waited, listening to what was being said. What was being said to his brother? It seemed he had displeased his Domme. Again. There was a surprise. He contemplated sneaking out, but the only other door led to a bathroom.

Before he got the chance to work out whether the window was an option Molly appeared at the door and froze.

“Mr. Holmes.”

“Miss Hooper, please, call me Mycroft, you are, after all, my brother's Dominant.”

She nodded once, her eyes wide.

“I merely came by to see how you were handling my baby brother. 12 hours at the fence yesterday, was it not?"

“It was,” she agreed, settling herself down in her own armchair. She knew she needed to keep this man distracted, as soon as he was satisfied, he'd leave.

“For what was my brother being punished?”

She realised it was a rather extravagant punishment, in the rain and the cold. It took a matter of seconds for the Domme to realise she could kill two birds with one stone, she was sure this would be his next question. “He hacked the alarm on the back door and snuck out 4 nights ago. I didn't see him for days.” He would never know the truth.

Mycroft inclined his head, apparently satisfied. For now, at least.

“Very well, it was most deserved then. I rather assumed it would, be, but I wanted to check. I'll see to it that the door is repaired.”

She forced herself to smile. “Thank you. It would be most appreciated.”

Their conversation was cut abruptly short at a large bang from down stairs.

Molly tried to continue as if they hadn't heard anything, this time Mycroft cut her off by raising a finger and listening. He knew he had good hearing and when he heard a small sob he knew his brother had fallen... Unless there was someone else downstairs he didn't know about.

When it was clear the Domme wasn't going to move to aid the youngest Holmes, or at least check on him, Mycroft stood up. “He could be seriously hurt down there. I understand he needs to be punished, but are you not going to ensure he hasn't hurt himself beyond your touch?”

At that, Molly's eyes widened further, realising she had miscalculated.

Her eyes darted to the door and Mycroft's power of deduction kicked in.

“Men He barked. Immediately 4 men - armed with rifles - kicked in the door and were in the scientist's apartment.

“Guard Miss Hooper. You, come with me.”

Together with the one armed man Mycroft descended the stairs to the basement, it was dark, there were no lights on and no windows down so far, but even so, it was clear immediately that Sherlock was alone and that he had fallen. The light streaming in from the open door illuminated the sobbing boy. From the blood, it looked like he'd struck the side of his head. Mycroft's eyes fell to the way his brother's arms were held and the collar. He charged forward, knelt down and gathered a clearly dizzy sobbing sub up in his arms.

“Get those bolt cutters!” He ordered sharply. He didn't have time to hunt for a key and he needed to get his brother's arms free as quickly as possible.

As soon as Sherlock's arms and neck were free, he breathed in deeply, sobbing even more, his head spinning.

“Sherlock, little brother, I am so sorry,” he whispered. He didn't know what else to say, but that certainly didn't seem adequate.

The boy seemed to come to his senses, realising who the person holding him was. He tried to pull out of the government official's grip.

“Hey, hey, shh,” he soothed, petting his sweaty curls.

“Why are you here, sir?” He choked out when he managed to get free.

A lump rose in Mycroft's throat at the word sir. Never had his brother addressed him in that way before, despite the position he held in the government, he had never allowed it. He never would.

“I've come to take you home.”

He shook his head, coughing again, his throat felt odd with room to breathe comfortably and he could still deduce even if he ached everywhere. “You c-came to check m-mistress c-could c-control me,” he whimpered as he moved his arms, instantly regretting it. They'd been tied like that for hours and he fire that burned through them was agony.

Mycroft swallowed, trying to look anywhere but at his baby brother. He was right, after all.

“Sherlock, I didn't realise, I swear I didn't-”

“Yes, sir,” he cut him off. He didn't want to hear Mycroft speak, he must have known what sort of Domme Molly would become and if he didn't he was an oblivious idiot.

Sherlock jerked back as Mycroft leant forward to gather him up again. His head hit the side of the cage and he was suddenly out cold.

“Get my ambulance!” Mycroft yelled over his shoulder, moving across the floor on his knees to hold his brother tight, guilt racking through him. “Now!”


	4. Chapter 4

He should have known. He should have checked on him. But now… now his baby brother was in pieces and only a Dom could put him back together. If a Dom didn't, he would never trust another one and the law only permitted 1 month without a contract. Of course, Mycroft could delay it for a while, but he couldn't put it off indefinitely.

He sighed, if only one Holmes had been born a Dom, then Mycroft could have claimed Sherlock when he came of age. Except, he knew Sherlock would never have let that happen. He had been annoying as a child, but insufferable as a teenager and then the drugs found their way to his baby brother which had had led to the first step in this collapsing spiral.

He carried Sherlock from the ambulance and into his club, heading straight for his private quarters. He could have had a trolley take him, but he was stabilised now, with only a concussion. And he wanted him close. Closer than he'd ever been. Somehow his baby brother had managed to get through such an ordeal practically unscathed.

***

Sherlock woke a few hours later in a place he barely recognised. The Diogenes. But that meant-

“Morning, Sherlock,” Mycroft leant forward from the chair he had been dozing in, immediately awake.

“Sir-”

“Mycroft,” he whispered. “Always Mycroft. Never sir.”

“Why am I here?” He said, looking around the room, but deliberately ignoring the older man's gaze.

“Molly is in custody, Sherlock. I am so sorry for leaving you with her, I thought-”

“Well, you thought wrong,” Sherlock muttered.

“I did,” Mycroft sighed at Sherlock's snark. Good, he wasn't completely broken into pieces.

“What are you going to do with me now, sir?”

Mycroft leant over and took his hand. Sherlock tried to pull it away, but his brother didn't give him a chance. The way Sherlock spoke it was enough to make the guilt begin to rise again.

“It's Mycroft. And you're going to spend a few weeks here or however long you need and then we can see about getting you another Dominant.”

Sherlock's eyes widened at that.

“Don't panic,” Mycroft hurried to convince him. “It won't be a maniac like Molly.”

His brother wouldn't look up at him and he squeezed his hand slightly. “Please, Sherlock.” He could see the distrust in his expression alone. “You'll get a choice. I won't just take you and dump you, I promise.”

“But what if…”

“What if what?” He encouraged gently when he stopped himself. He wanted no needed Sherlock to start questioning him again.

“They hate me like Molly?”

“They won't. I'll never leave you with someone like that again. I'll make sure you can always have a phone so if you ever feel like anything she did to you is about to happen you can call me. Any time. I'll increase the surveillance as well.”

“But…”

“Go on.”

“Molly made me unwire the alarm on the door… so you wouldn't know.”

“You need to trust me, Sherlock,” he sighed softly, feeling so incredibly guilty. He couldn't believe what he'd made his brother go through all because he'd been a bit of a brat as a teenager. He would never let that happen again. He didn't even know the half of it, but he knew it wouldn't be repeated.

“How can I? You hate me. You hate me and you left me with her.”

***

It had turned out to be closer to three months than three weeks and all of them had been incredibly difficult.

Sherlock had so little trust for anyone, but especially so little trust for Mycroft. It made him feel sorry for himself, but more importantly Sherlock. He knew this was his fault. When their parents had died he had sworn himself as his little brother's protector. But instead all he had managed was the exact opposite and he hated himself for it.

The government official had taken leave from work that couldn't be done from the club and he made promises to Sherlock that he would only leave him a few hours at a time, making sure he was back well within the allotted time. Slowly, Sherlock began to trust and Mycroft began to be able to leave him for longer at a time.

“What sort of Dom would you prefer, Sherlock?” He needed to force the issue now. They were closing in on the law dates and he wanted Sherlock to be free enough to make his own choice.

“A man,” he whispered after a while.

Mycroft blinked. He hadn't even thought of that. Not only had he given his little brother over to a spiteful hateful bitch, but he had given his brother over to a Dominant he could never be attracted to. He himself was gay, how had he never realised… _you never wanted to realise_ , came a voice deep from within his subconscious.

“Sherlock, I'm so sorry again. I should have thought to ask before I went to Molly.“

“It's fine.”

“No, it's not. It's really not. But I won't make that mistake again. In fact there's a man I've known for a long time. An Afghanistan war veteran, who, if I was available myself, I would love to be a sub for.”

***

It was a few more days, but eventually Sherlock agreed to meet this man Mycroft was so impressed with. He knew from experience, if his brother was impressed, it was at least worth a go.

“Little brother, meet John Watson.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Hello, Sherlock,” said the new man, his voice was warm and soft.

Sherlock allowed a tiny smile to creep on his face, but shifted closer to Mycroft ever so slightly. Enough for a Dom's keen eye to notice.

It made Mycroft feel oddly warm inside. Even though it hadn't been the response he had been hoping for, it was appreciated nonetheless - Sherlock trusting him again. Like he had when they were children.

Mycroft moved a cautious hand out and placed it on his younger brother's shoulder.

“Go on,” he whispered, hoping he sounded encouraging.

The new Dom held his hand out. Tentatively, Sherlock stepped forward and shook it.

“I'm John. It's good to meet you, Sherlock. I've heard a lot about you.”

The boy's eyes widened in horror and he glanced at Mycroft, pleading.

“It's alright, little brother. That's good.” He nodded to him and was glad to see the young man relax a little.

“I heard you had a little bit of trouble with your last relationship. That's fine,” he added quickly at Sherlock's once again panicked look. “Women, eh?”

That got a laugh from Sherlock, even if it was small, it was highly appreciated.

John realised he needed to be the Dom he was from the off and despite this place being the government official's, he needed to act like he owned it to encourage Sherlock to open up a little. He indicated the sofa with a hand, “Shall we take a seat?”

Sherlock immediately moved next to where Mycroft had perched.

John smiled softly - understandingly, sitting opposite.

“Any chance of some tea, Mycroft?”

“Of course,” the older man smiled and pressed a small button at the side of the table.

The silence wasn't as awkward as it could have been as they waited. The door opened and a young lady stepped in.

“Anthea, could we have three teas please?” He glanced at Sherlock. “Is that what you want, little brother?”

He nodded once and Mycroft smiled. “You know how Doctor Watson likes it.”

That got Sherlock's attention. “You've been here before, then?” He deduced and spoke to the Dom.

The elder Holmes' sigh of relief was silent, but still John noticed once more. It was clear this was more of the Sherlock that he was used to. That was good. He could work with that.

“Yes, I have. I've known your brother a long time.”

“Which shoulder was it?” He asked, moving slightly further from his brother.

“Excuse me?” The Dom asked sharply.

Sherlock flinched at his tone. “I'm sorry, sir. Forgive me.”

“No, no, there's nothing to forgive.” The doctor's eyes darted towards Mycroft who had done the right thing in keeping out of it, despite so clearly wanting to intervene. “You caught me by surprise, that's all.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It's John. At least for now.”

The boy shook his head, clearly not agreeing, he seemed to be reprimanding himself for not using the term of address from the start of the conversation. Before he had the chance to bite on his fingernails Mycroft reached up and whacked his hand away.

“No. You can do this,” he whispered, even though John could hear them. “You don't need to be nervous, baby brother. You just need to be yourself. That's all John and I want from you.”

His nod was marginally more confident this time. “Ok,” he whispered back, shifting away from his brother again.

“Good,” Mycroft straightened up on his side of the sofa just as there was a precise knock at the door and a tray was brought in.

The government official indicated the tray that was placed on the coffee table between the Holmes brothers and John.

“Thank you, Anthea. Do you want to pour, Sherlock?”

The boy nodded and settled on his knees beside the table.

The doctor smiled at him again as he took his tea. “2 sugars, sir?”

John nodded. “Of course.” He let his hand close around Sherlock's. Ignoring the flinch, he took the initiative and pulled him up, moving him around to sit beside him. “It was my left shoulder. I didn't duck quick enough and the attack came from nowhere.”

Sherlock studied him for a moment, how can an army man - a rather successful army man before the injury - be so calm and yet so soft.

“I know what you're thinking,” John said, he met his measuring glance before Sherlock quickly looked away.

“No you don't. Sir.”

“I have a temper,” the doctor informed him slowly… cautiously. He shot a look at the older Holmes, who, despite paying attention, was doing a superb job of being busy on his phone. John reached over to the tray and grasped Sherlock's mug. Only one of the Holmeses cups had sugar and he assumed that was the younger's.

The boy took the mug quickly, still watching the older man out of the corner of his eye, as if he might lash out at any moment. “I'm not going to hurt you, Sherlock.”

“That's what Molly said. 2 years ago.”

“2 years!” He yelled in Mycroft's direction. “You made out it was a few months. How could not have noticed for 2 whole years?!”

Sherlock wanted to angry, he wanted to be scared at the shouting, but it wasn't aimed at him. For some reason it was aimed at his brother.

“John, you must understand-”

“No, Mycroft! I know exactly what happened. You dropped him off and didn't bother to check up on him. So much for trying to protect him!”

Sherlock's head was looking between one man and the other, not scared, just confused.

Mycroft sighed, staring down at the contents of his cup. “You're right. I didn't check up on him like I should have done. But he-”

Before he could help himself John had shifted over so that he was closer to Sherlock, he placed his hand on his thigh.

“I promise you, if we ever sign a contract and you feel I have gone against it in any way, you'll be allowed to bring it up with me. Or someone else of your choosing. I will never stop you.” He turned to look at Mycroft with a deep breath. “It doesn't matter what he did! He was 18! You should have been there. You should have been there and you weren't!”


	6. Chapter 6

The three of them had daily meetings for about 3 weeks after the initial meeting. As time progressed, Sherlock got more comfortable with the new Dom and began to sit next to him by choice. He'd also tried staying with John in the room on his own while Mycroft attended a meeting. He had been fine so they had tride again, Sherlock was rather proud of that. They had been to discuss Sherlock's progress with the department of law enforcement that would cover the fact he wasn't collared at the moment.

The evening of the second meeting, Mycroft went in to check on his little brother. He hadn't touched his food from lunch. At all.

“Why haven't you eaten, Lock?”

“I've been thinking.”

That sounded dubious. Mycroft perched on the edge of his bed. “What about?”

“John. Can we go out for lunch tomorrow? I'm getting bored of being cooped up in this place.”

Mycroft was glad Sherlock was bored of the place, it meant he had the ability to be bored, but he couldn't do tomorrow. He hated to keep him cooped up, but he couldn't put off work forever and he was unsure how long Sherlock would need the constant supervision.

“Maybe not tomorrow, Lock, I've got a busy day, perhaps Thursday?”

“Can't I go with him alone? I won't get into trouble, Myc. I promise, I'll be good.

“I know you will, that wasn't… it's a bit of a shock you asking that's all.” His baby brother had actually told him he'd be good. That never happened.

Sherlock's face lit up. “Does that mean I can?”

“I don't know-”

His face dropped and the government official leant forward to comfort him immediately. He'd gotten good at that recently, something he hadn't had to do since Sherlock was a child.

“I'll speak to John. See what he thinks. How does that sound?”

“Can I come?”

Mycroft inclined his head. “Very well, little brother, I'll see if he's willing to come back tonight for dinner.”

The older brother would say absolutely anything to make that look appear on his face again and again.

***

That evening, John noticed immediately how sheepish Sherlock was. He had moved back around the table and was sat beside Mycroft when he entered the dining room at the club.

He took the free seat and immediately glanced between the brothers. “What's happened?” He asked in concern. He hated the idea that the delicate bond they had developed over the last few weeks could get thrown away over something he had no idea about.

“Nothing,” Mycroft hurriedly assured the Dom. “Sherlock has got something he'd like to ask you.” He elbowed his little brother in the ribs. “Go on, the worse he can do is say no.”

“Say no to what?”

Sherlock clasped his hands together on top of the table.

“I'm hungry Myc,” he suddenly said instead.

John let out a surprised sigh. “I'm assuming that wasn't what he wanted to ask me?”

“No, but if he's asking for food…” He stood and went to the door to get some ordered. “You're hungry because you didn't eat your lunch.”

“Sherlock,” John lightly chastised. “I've told you you've got to eat.”

“That's what he wanted to ask you. About tomorrow.” He pointedly looked at Sherlock.

“I wanted to go out for lunch. Just us. Would that be ok? This place is getting on my nerves.”

John's face relaxed at that. “The three of us?” He was glad it was something as simple as lunch and the boy wasn't trying to terminate their arrangement. He had been enjoying himself, and Sherlock was respectful and his deductions made him giggle.

“Just us, sir. If that's ok. I mean, we can wait until Thursday if you like. Myc's busy tomorrow…”

John reached across the table and placed his index finger to his lips. “Come around here,” he ordered.

Cautiously Sherlock got to his feet and walked around the table. The boy sunk down beside him.

“If you're ready for it to be just the two of us, that's fine. If you worry or get upset while we're out, that's fine too. We can just come back here.”

John held his breath as he reached up to cup Sherlock's cheek. He was most surprised the sub didn't flinch back. “Whatever you are ready for. I would love it if we could go out alone,” he glanced at Mycroft. “But I don't want you to do something you're uncomfortable with. Not yet.”

“In fact, John, it was his idea. I offered Thursday, but he wanted to go with you. Alone. If he wants to, good. I can't keep him here forever, as much as I may want to.”

Sherlock smiled shyly.

“Little brother, I truly let you down. It will never happen again.”

The boy's eyes darted to John.

“And if Doctor Watson becomes psychotic like Miss Hooper did, he is well aware of the consequences.”

At that, Sherlock looked panicked.

The Dom placed his hand on Sherlock's knee slightly and squeezed. “That was meant as a joke, Sherlock,” although his look in the elder brother's direction said he clearly believed him. He didn't doubt if he harmed Sherlock after what the boy had been through, he'd end up in either a ditch or the Thames.

***

“Little brother, you look fine, stop worrying.”

Sherlock stood in front of the mirror, fiddling with the top few buttons of his shirt that he hadn't done up.

“But it's different when you're with us Myc, you stop me doing stupid things and you… calm me down when things go wrong.”

“Last night I think you'll find it was John who calmed you down…”

The boy seemed to pause there, clearly thinking to himself. It had been Mycroft who had made the comment and John who had reacted in a way that helped him.

“Oh yeah,” he answered, as if he had forgotten.

“Are you more calm now?”

He stopped where he was and sat on the edge of the bed.

“There's more, what is it?”

Sherlock waved his feet around on the floor, his highly polished black shoes reflecting his face as he stared at them.

“What if I mess up? What if do or say something that means he won't like me?”

“Sherlock, you are you,” he pointed out the obvious because it needed doing. “You've had your ups and downs the last couple of weeks, but you've still been you, nothing has put Doctor Watson off so far, has it?”

The boy pulled his legs up and hid his face in his knees. He didn't answer.

Mycroft settled beside his brother and ran his hand through his hair. It surprised him when his head fell to the side and landed on his shoulder.

“I'm glad I'm not with Molly anymore. Im glad you were there. But with her I knew my place. I knew what I was doing. Now I can do anything, and any of it can be right or wrong.”


	7. Chapter 7

Mycroft had managed to put his meeting back half an hour. His colleagues hadn't been overly impressed but it wasn't like he was cancelling it. He just needed to take Sherlock to the restaurant, he trusted hin, of course he did, he just didn't trust the place his head was at. And frankly he doubted his little brother trusted it either.

Before they got into the restaurant Mycroft placed his hand on the younger Holmes' shoulder he pulled his hand from his pocket and pushed a handful of notes into it.

“Make sure you pay at the end,” he explained with a smile.

“But-”

“No buts, little brother. Trust me. It'll be fine. You'll be fine, you don't need to be nervous, nor so worried that something will go wrong.”

The waiter opened the door for them and with a hand between his shoulder blades he pushed the boy into the restaurant, John was already sat there in the corner.

“I'll see you later, little brother, be good and I'll come and get you in a few hours.”

As Sherlock cautiously approached the table John stood up. “Hey,” he said with a smile.

The boy responded with a small smile of his own. The doctor hurried around him and pulled his chair out.

Sherlock frowned, “shouldn't that be my job, sir?” He asked. Despite his question he was immensely glad they had chosen a restaurant together. He didn't know if John was the sort of Dom that would want to go to a specific Dom/sub restaurant. He wasn't sure he was ready to kneel beside John in a public place, maybe if they practiced at the club… if he was lucky John had enough patience for that.

“Nope. If I want to pull the chair out for you then I will.”

The boy took his seat.

“And anyway, we're here as friends.”

Sherlock's eyes widened in a slight panic.

“What is it?” John asked hurriedly.

“Nothing, sir. I mean, nothing,” he was glad for the waitress suddenly arriving, she had a tray with two glasses of coke.

“I ordered drinks for us,” John offered as the glasses were placed on the table. “Is that ok?”

The boy nodded cautiously sipping at the glass.

“Are you ready to order?”

Sherlock hadn't even opened the menu but he didn't want to disappoint the other man so he opened it and read off the top thing.

John glanced between Sherlock and the waitress. “Could you come back in a minute?” He asked.

“Of course,” she smiled politely and hurried off in the direction of another table.

“It's ok to read the menu, Sherlock. I haven't decided yet, either.”

“Sorry,” the boy said quickly. He scanned the menu, his eyes darting across the meals with super speed.

By the time the waitress reappeared Sherlock still wasn't sure but at least he had some options this time.

“So, Sherlock, do you plan on going back to university?” He had demanded Mycroft explain the situation with him further after the misinformation about how long Sherlock had been with Molly.

The sub shook his head.

“Why not?”

This time he shrugged. “Too far from Mycroft. I'd probably go back… to how I was before. When I disappointed him and mummy.”

John inclined his head in understanding. That was something else to talk to Mycroft about then. He wanted to make a list, but he was sure Sherlock wouldn't be that pleased with them talking about him, despite it being for him.

Sherlock found the meal incredibly awkward and it wasn't going the way he had hoped when he had entered the restaurant. The knowledge that John didn't want to be his Dom and just wanted to be friends had hit him harder than he could have anticipated. It also meant trouble. As he'd learned to relax around his brother and become more like the man he'd been before he'd moved into Molly's he realised he didn't have time. Time to become the sub that John obviously wanted nor time to find another Dom dumb enough to put up with him.

“You alright, Sherlock?” John interrupted his thoughts. “You've gone really pale.”

The doctor was on his feet and beside him in seconds.

Sherlock pushed his chair back and stood. “I'm sorry, John. I'm really sorry,” with that he snatched his jacket off the back of the chair and raced from the restaurant. He left one very confused doctor and two half eaten plates.

John chucked £30 down on the table and took off after the boy.

***

Despite hunting for him, the Dom couldn't find or even think where he had gone. So he resorted to phoning Mycroft and ignoring the fact he was in a meeting.

Mycroft picked up on the third ring.

“What is it John?” He hissed. “What has he done?”

“He took off out of the restaurant. I can't find him and I'm worried.”

“Right, well come towards the club, I'll come towards the restaurant,” he rang off and turned to the group cluttered around the table. “My apologies gentlemen, nationwide crisis could be imminent, I think it best we postpone the meeting for another time.”

With that, he grabbed his briefcase, snapped it shut and took off at a brisk pace out of his club.

It took nearly 20 minutes to meet John half way between the club and the restaurant. “Any sign of him?”

Kind of a redundant question, Mycroft thought seeing as his car was empty but he shook his head anyway. “No, he's not answering his phone either. His gps is also off.”

The doctor sighed as he climbed in beside the government official.

“I suppose we'd better drive around a while.”

“What did you even do to him?”

John rolled his eyes, trust the older man to blame him.

“I did nothing! He just became quiet, withdrawn, it reminded me of what he was like a few weeks ago, then suddenly he apologised and took off, mid-meal.”


	8. Chapter 8

John and Mycroft hunted for the boy for hours. They couldn't find him anywhere. John was rather amused yet annoyed that Mycroft hadn't managed to deduce where Sherlock was. It was what Holmeses did, wasn't it?

At gone midnight, they headed back to the club, both of them thinking silently on how they could possibly locate Sherlock. Especially if Mycroft couldn't deduce it. If he couldn't deduce it, surely it meant Sherlock didn't want to be found. At least, that was John's reasoning.

They were heading to Mycroft's rooms to confer on a new plan when they heard sniffling coming from Sherlock's room.

“I'm assuming you checked his room before you came to find me?” The doctor asked.

Mycroft shook his head feeling like a complete idiot. Why hadn't he? He had been so wrapped up in believing his baby brother was in the wrong that he didn't consider the fact he could have just gone 'home'. The government official knocked softly and pushed the door open. “Sherlock?” He called in softly.

The boy glanced up and saw his brother and John silhouetted in the doorway. He sobbed.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft stepped into the room, cautiously. “What is it? What's the matter?”

He glanced up, his gaze towards John, not Mycroft. “I'm sorry,” he sobbed.

John didn't answer, he was mightily confused.

“Why are you here?” The boy asked eventually, his voice was barely above a croak.

John frowned. He flicked on the light as he stepped into the room. Mycroft was sat beside his brother on the bed.

“Because you ran off. I was worried.”

“Friends don't worry. Only Doms do.”

“And brothers,” Mycroft intervened softly. “But friends do worry, too.”

John sat the other side of the boy and brushed a few stray curls back off of a tear stained face. “That's what this is about.” He sighed and wrapped his arm around Sherlock.

“What happened?” The older sub asked, glancing between them.

The doctor glanced at the older man over Sherlock's head. “I made a comment when I pulled his chair out. That we were there as friends. I assume you thought I was your Dom?”

Sherlock nodded, pulling away from the blond. “I'm sorry,” he repeated. “I didn't realise you just wanted to be friends.” He glanced at Mycroft. “I disappointed you, Myc.” He rubbed at his eyes with the palm of his hand, but couldn't control his tears; he'd let his brother down. He had never wanted to do that again, but he had. “Does this mean I have to go to the next Dom you can find? Or are you not going to bother and just let me go to prison? It would be easier,” he conceded. He was so wrapped up in this belief he didn't see the look on the older Holmes' face.

Mycroft frowned. Surely his brother didn't think that little of him. “You're not going anywhere.” His hand was back on his shoulder again. It was becoming a regular occurrence.

“Hang on. Don't jump to conclusions.” He never thought he would be saying that to a Holmes. They didn't jump to conclusions easily, after all. “I didn't realise you were prepared for a relationship, Sherlock. You've been through a lot and I thought we were still getting to know each other.”

Sherlock stood up and paced across the room. He settled himself in the chair beside the desk and wrapped his jumper over his knees, snuggling in.

“Sherlock,” John tried again. “I do want you as my submissive. I should have told you that from the off. Because of that, I'm sorry. Please don't let what we had disappear because of a bit of miscommunication.” They had been getting on so well and he had been beginning to open up to the Dom.

The boy stayed completely still, staring at his toes peaking out from below his jumper.

Clearing his throat, the Dom glanced at Mycroft. The government official nodded once.

“Sherlock, come here,” John's words were stern and he clearly meant them as a Dom, not a friend.

That got the boy's attention. His head snapped up and his feet slid off the side of the chair and onto the floor. Slowly he pushed himself upright, the chair spinning on its own.

John grabbed his hand when he was in range and pulled him down on his lap.

The youngest Holmes looked rather shocked at that.

“If you want me to be your Dom, I will sign a contract with you now. I know you're worried time is running out. But what you need to understand, Sherlock, is a Dom does not become a good one by just bossing you around or tying you up, okay? They earn a sub's respect and keep it. You must realise Molly's way of Domming you was entire wrong. She was using you and treating you badly. It's known as abuse.” They hadn't really given it a name for what Molly had done, but he mentioned her all the time, mainly when he thought he was in the wrong, and John did nothing to reprimand him.

Sherlock tried to stand up, move away from the Dom, but John wrapped his arm around him. “Stay,” he whispered.

“No,” Sherlock's voice was louder than he had anticipated.

“No?” The doctor questioned, letting him go now.

“That's not the way things work.”

Sherlock dropped to the floor on his knees with a heavy thud and bent over.

John moved his shoes back before Sherlock could start licking them. He reached down and grasped the boy's shirt collar. He pulled him back to his haunches.

“You are my submissive. Not my dog.”

Mycroft cleared his throat awkwardly. “I'll leave you to it. I'll be back in the morning with the contract.”

John spared him a small smile, but his attention was on the kneeling boy.

“Come to bed,” John ordered when Mycroft had gone. He didn't give him a chance to protest, just pulled him up on the sheets beside him.


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock lay there awkwardly at first. It was only a single bed. If he moved one way he'd touch the Dom. If he moved the other way he'd fall out. He stared at the ceiling which was illuminated by the lamp beside his bed. This was strange. He was in bed with an actual Dom. He reflected on how this had never happened before.

“You're thinking incredibly loudly,” John nudged him.

“Sorry.” He rolled over looking at the lamp.

John's hand landed on his shoulder and rolled him back facing the ceiling again.

“I meant, sorry, sir.”

The doctor sighed. “That's not what I was after.” He leant up on his side and looked into the boy's unusual eyes. “I was after an explanation. What's up?”

“Nothing. Nothing, sir.” He sighed himself and went back to watching the weird painted spirals above him.

“Sherlock, look at me. That's an order,” he added when the boy didn't comply.

Sherlock rolled over to look at him, but John could tell he hadn't wanted to and had only done it because he had specified it as an order. “I'm not going to demand anything of you, Sherlock. Nothing you are uncomfortable with. Tomorrow we shall look at the contract your brother brings and discuss where to go from there, OK?”

“Yes, sir,” Sherlock whispered.

John ran his hand through his untamed curls. “Now go to sleep.”

***

John woke first the following morning, but was more than content to watch Sherlock as he slept.

A knock at the door alerted him that he wasn't the only one up.

“I have your breakfast, Mr. Holmes.” A woman's voice called through.

John glanced at the clock on Sherlock's bedside table. It was half 9, he either read it wrong earlier or he had been staring at Sherlock for longer than he thought.

He wouldn't wake him. Mycroft had said he barely slept as it was; it would do him good.

He rolled to his feet and grabbed Sherlock's dressing gown and slipped into it.

“Oh, Doctor Watson. Here. I got Sherlock's favourites prepared. Maybe you could actually get some food into him?”

John smiled as he took the tray. He could tell that the little speech had been copy and pasted from Mycroft.

“Mr. Holmes says he has a meeting he needs to attend. Would you be ok with Sherlock for the morning?”

“Of course.” He grinned further.

“He'll be down for lunch with the contract for you to look over."

“Thanks.” He kicked the door shut with his toe with a last smile.

When he turned around, he saw that Sherlock was awake, wide awake and definitely alert - he was peering at him, almost cautiously, like he was scared he had done something wrong already.

“Nothing has changed since last night,” John assured him. “I'm not forcing you to do anything you don't want to do.”

“I don't want to eat, sir,” he said looking at the tray on the bed that John had just put down.

The doctor was about to argue with him, realising that he would contradict himself, but he saw the smug look on the boy's face. Sarcasm. He was glad e felt comfortable enough to do that, even if it was only one comment.

“You bugger,” he responded fondly. “Come and kneel by the table.”

“But I'm naked, sir.”

“Is that a problem?” The Dom looked at the younger boy; his question serious.

Realising John didn't have a problem with it, Sherlock shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Good boy, then come here.”

Sherlock slowly made his way across the room until he was beside the doctor. Then he knelt.

“Looks like you're a fruit man.”

“Hmm?” Sherlock tilted his head on one side to look up at the older man. He noticed the plate. “Meat and two veg… not really my thing, sir.”

“Too boring for you?”

Sherlock smirked. “Yes, sir. Something like that.”

John spent a minute cutting up the different array of exotics fruits. There was all sorts laid out, many fruits that John had rarely seen and some he didn't recognise at all. He was sure Sherlock did though. The boy was peaceful beside him, kneeling silently. Which was something, John reflected, he would be ever grateful for.

He looked up in surprise when John tilted his chin back with a finger. “Eat,” he whispered, pressing a slice of kiwi into Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock continued to chew silently throughout the meal.

In between, John ate a chunk of fruit of his own. There was plenty there and he knew for a fact Sherlock rarely ate anything let alone the portion he had been given. The sub also didn't eat last night, which meant if he'd touched his lunch it was nearly 24 hours.

“What do you fancy next?”

“Mango,” he said straight away pulling a chuckle from the doctor.

He dropped his free hand into his curls, tickling the spot behind his ear. “You never cease to amaze me, babe.”

Sherlock's head shot up at that.

“Did you enjoy that pet name?”

The boy nodded. “It was good, sir.” He smiled shyly, accepting the piece of mango.

The next chunk of strawberry was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Stay,” he ordered down to Sherlock, he stood and opened the door, expecting another member of staff. It wasn't, it was his new sub's older brother.

“Mycroft. Good morning.”

“John,” the government official nodded once. “One moment,” John smiled and closed the door enough to leave it ajar. He found a pair of Sherlock's pants and threw them at him. “Slip them on, Sherlock, then return to how you were.” He seemed more comfortable giving orders now than he had been before. “I have the contract discussed last night. It's all ready for your signatures,” Mycroft offered when John reopened the door once again.

“Thank you, Mycroft. It means a lot you had it sorted so quickly.”

“Not at all, it's been more difficult trying to keep people off of his back about not being collared. I'm more than glad and ever grateful.”

“And of course I understand the consequences of letting him down, so we don't need to go over that.

The older Holmes spotted his brother knelt beside the chair that was out from the table. He sat the other side of him.

“Good to see you eating, Sherlock.”

The kneeling boy looked over at John. “It's easy to eat with John around, Myc.”


	10. Chapter 10

John gave the brothers a moment together. He knew the way Mycroft had 'neglected' his baby brother, but he also saw the remorse and the want - no need - to be forgiven.

Mycroft poured himself a coffee from the pot and poured a cup of tea for Sherlock.

“You can get up, babe,” John called from across the room where he was sat on the sofa.

Sherlock's head snapped over his shoulder and he grinned at the Dom. He pushed himself off the floor and settled in the seat John had been in moments before.

John couldn't take his eyes off his new sub and when he saw him wanting to reach over to the plate he grinned. “You can eat whatever you want.” He went back to reading through the contract Mycroft had given him. He underlined a few points he didn't like the look of and reread through it again.

It took him nearly 20 minutes to go through it all twice and when he was done, he went to join the other men.

"Hop up, pet," he ordered, patting Sherlock on the hip.

To Mycroft's almost-surprise his little brother obeyed immediately.

Before he had a chance to kneel, John pulled him down on his lap, he wrapped his arms around him while he settled down.

“Good boy,” he whispered in his ear. Sherlock deduced immediately that he didn't want him kneeling in front of his brother. He didn't know why though, it was probably a pride thing. It usually was.

Sherlock glanced at the papers the Dom was holding.

John held them out. “I know you know what these are.”

“The contract. Sir.”

“Right-o.” He dumped them on his lap. “Read through it.”

Sherlock groaned, which John was pleased about - the boy was beginning to relax.

“What is it?”

“Boring.”

Mycroft nearly spoke up, but a glare from the Dom cut him off.

“Read, Sherlock.”

This time the boy sighed, “Yes, sir.”

“But ignore everything I've underlined.”

Frowning at the pages this time, Sherlock began to read through the contract. He paused at the first bit of underlining.

“Sir, what's wrong with that?” He pointed at what he had just read.

Mycroft was looking around awkwardly, as if it had been him that had typed up the contract.

"It wasn't you, was it?"

“No,” Mycroft answered, feeling slightly guilty for some reason. “I didn't know what you'd want so it's a basic contract that I can edit.”

“Sir, I still don't understand.”

“I'll not have you kneel every time I enter a room that you happen to be in, Sherlock.”

The boy frowned, clearly confused and not computing what the Dom was trying to explain.

“I'm not God. I'm your dominant and you are my submissive, that is the extent of my authority over you.”

“But you're wrong, sir. I should kneel. It's what subs do.”

He tried to push himself from John's lap, willing the older man to understand but he held him firm.

“It's not what you do.”

Sherlock finally struggled free and knelt. He made Mycroft's heart clench painfully. Over a year of this… he'd left his brother to that… that bitch, the boy wasn't the one he had left with Molly all that time ago, this boy was different.

“Who's in charge here?” John's voice had gone stern, it was nearly enough to make Mycroft interrupt but he stayed put, this was his fault, he had to let John continue with what he thought best. The Dom had more of a chance of fixing this than the government official did.

Sherlock's head snapped up, fear flashing through his eyes.

It was what John had to see, not what he wanted to.

“You, sir. You.”

“Good. I make the rules. You follow them. That's how this works, correct?”

“Yes, sir.” He lowered his head and kept it low.

John wanted to reach forward and tilt his head back, but the soft approach had only worked as far as hugging the boy, he clearly felt uncomfortable doing something different than what he had before with a Domme who had hated him and treated him like garbage. That thought made him shiver.

“Go to the corner, Sherlock,” John ordered. He waited until the boy had got there before continuing. Well, he thought he'd need to continue, but Sherlock knelt up ramrod straight and placed his hands behind his head.

The doctor stared at the floor; to be more precise, his laces. That had been the last thing he's wanted to do, but he needed to break the habit Sherlock had found himself forced into.

The boy stayed perfectly still for over half an hour. It was remarkable, really, a boy of such intelligence and ability to fidget had been completely turned off.

“You can come out of the corner now, Sherlock,” John ordered but his sub didn't move. “Now, Sherlock!” His voice had risen a few volumes.

The boy flinched, but didn't move. He hated disappointing people… especially his brother and the Dom. He'd disappointed Molly a lot over the time they spent together and he never liked it. He probably disliked it more than she had.

John sighed and glanced at the older Holmes, “Anything to add?”

“Maybe I should leave you two to it.”

At that, Sherlock whimpered. He really had disappointed his brother if he wanted to leave.

“Turn around,” John ordered again.

This time he complied, the boy had tears welling up in his eyes. It worried both other men.

“What is it?” John questioned.

“I'm sorry, sir,” he whispered. He crawled forward and bent over the armrest of one of the chairs.

So the boy had recognised it as punishment, but didn't think it was over.

“Come here,” John said slowly.

Sherlock looked up.

“I'm not punishing you anymore, Sherlock, I needed you to see how this is going to work. I would ask you to forget Molly, but that wouldn't help and I don't think you could anyway. I wanted you to see how I won’t ever hurt you.”

“You will, sir, everyone does.”


	11. Chapter 11

Mycroft closed the gap between him and his brother rather quickly and he wrapped his arms around him.

“John is different,” the government official whispered. “You know that, little brother.”

“I'm sorry, sir,” he whispered in the direction of the doctor.

“I know, babe, now are you going to take this contract away, Mycroft?”

“Of course,” the government official bowed his head for the Dom. “What do you plan on doing today?”

“Nothing strenuous,” the doctor smiled, “I thought we might go for a walk. How does that sound, Sherlock?” He took his sub's hand.

“Yes, sir.”

“Ok. Well, I shall return around lunch time with the amended contract, what do you think?” He asked of his little brother, but the boy didn't reply.

John sighed. “That would be great.”

“Just give me a phone call if you want to eat out for lunch or anything.”

Mycroft was going out of his way to be helpful. Still feeling guilty then.

“Of course,” the blond replied running his hand through Sherlock's curls. He let his fingers get tangled in the mess that was his pet's hair. Sherlock didn't react.

The boy looked so out of place and he kept trying to kneel, but John's grip held him upright.

John waited until Mycroft had gone before he pulled his hand free. This time he stopped the sub from kneeling by hooking his hand under his arm.

“We are going to go for a walk as a couple. This time tomorrow, if all goes well with the contract, you'll be wearing my collar, how does that sound?”

“Good, sir. Good. Are we friends?“ He asked after a moment.

It was an odd question, especially given the circumstances of the day. The doctor realised he had likely been thinking on it for hours, trying to work out the meaning or justification behind every single thing the man said or did. Trying to come to terms with whatever it was.

John turned to face him, just watching for a moment. Eventually he brought calloused fingers up to cup either side of his face. “Yes, babe. We are.”

The sub appeared to think for a while. No doubt more analysis going on inside his head. “How can we be friends and you be my Dom, sir?”

The doctor smiled sadly. “You can be more than one thing with someone. Sometimes it's best if it's one or the other, such as sub/Dom or just friends. Sometimes it's best if it's both together, but it really doesn't matter which.”

“Yes, sir.”

John was sure he had more questions, but he didn't react like he wanted to ask more. He wasn't going to stop him asking them, but he certainly wasn't going to force them out of him. They needed to take things slow. One wrong move and Sherlock might bolt.

“Good boy. Now shall we shower together?”

There was surprise on the boy's face, but it soon turned into a smile and for John, it was beautiful to see.

“I love it when you smile.”

His words made it turn into a grin. The older man snagged his hand again and ran towards the loo pulling him, more than willingly behind.

***

They returned some time later, clean and shaven. John wore his usual checkered shirt and jacket with a pair of jeans. Sherlock had his immaculate suit that his older brother had got hold of for him. He looked awkward in it. Like he felt he didn't deserve such luxuries.

The Dom held his boy's brand new Belstaff out for him and he looked puzzled for a moment.

“I'm allowed to hold a coat out for my submissive, Sherlock. It doesn't always have to be the other way around.”

“No, sir. Of course, sir.” He slipped into it and flicked his collar up around his neck. It even had a new scarf stuffed into the pocket. It didn't take him long to snuggle it around his neck. Soon he'd have a collar there.

“C'mon then, pet,” John encouraged from the door once he had his own coat on. He was looking forward to this. Something normal.

***

John kept trying to grab Sherlock's hand as they walked through the park, but the boy was so tense that he was scared if he tried to physically touch him, he'd either lash out in shock or run a mile. Neither sounded feasibly good ideas.

The wind was cold, but with that thick coat on he knew his sub wouldn't be feeling it. Not yet at least. He managed to get him to stop at an empty bench without touching him.

“Don't kneel,” he ordered rather than taking a hold of his arm or coat collar.

Instead, the boy perched on the edge of the bench, looking even more tense than he had when they were walking.

John sighed, the poor kid… he needed answers though, he couldn't leave him like this. “Relax, pet. Everything is fine,” he soothed.

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright then, explain. What's up?” He kept his voice high and without that stern tone that tended to creep into it in these sorts of situations.

Sherlock was quiet for a moment, but John hadn't been expecting him to open up straight away. Things would take time. All of it would take time.

“What if you change your mind, sir?” Sherlock asked deadly serious. “Mycroft's going to change the contract and then you'll see it and not like it and that will make you not want to bother trying to change it anymore and then you'll have had enough of me and-”

“Sherlock! Sherlock, listen to me, you're having a panic attack.”

The boy had spoken like a child, no fluidity or sense to it and now he was breathing heavily, his whole chest heaving.

He quickly got onto his knees in front of the younger man and wrapped his hands round the boy's own.

“Sherlock, look at me. At me, Sherlock, now. I need you to breathe. Breathe in and out. With me, come on.”

With John's help, Sherlock copied him; replicating his breathing. It took a while but eventually Sherlock managed to regain control of his breathing.

“Good boy,” John soothed, cupping his cheek. “Good, good boy.”

“I'm sorry, sir. I'm really sorry, honestly, sir, I-”

“Shh,” the doctor cut him off and brought his head to his chest. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Why are you sorry?”

“I've embarrassed you, sir.”

John wanted to hunt down every last person that had ever made Sherlock feel uncomfortable for something out of his control. By his reaction, it had happened a lot, most likely at Molly's. He would kill her.

“No, no, no, pet, you haven't embarrassed me. Don't ever ever think that. You are mine. My friend. My sub. My pet. My boy.”

The boy sniffed and John felt guilt he couldn't control rack through him. He bent over to pick Sherlock up and he wrapped his arms around the Dom tightly, never wanting to let go.


	12. Chapter 12

“Sherlock! Walk, don't run!” John yelled across the room.

The boy grinned sheepishly as he froze in front of the door and opened it wide.

“Hello, little brother, am I under the impression you ran to see me?”

Sherlock poked his tongue out and went back to sitting beside John. Or rather curled in a ball, his head in the doctor's lap.

“I come bearing good news.”

The pair of them looked intrigued at that, but still Sherlock didn't move. The position had become fairly regular now, it comforted him and John knew that.

“Surveillance is fully up and running at Baker Street, Sherlock, if you would like to return there?”

“Baker Street?” He sat up in shock. He hadn't really thought about his old home, not since Molly had punished him outside her house. He did miss Mrs. Hudson. He glanced from John to his brother.

“On my own?”

“No, baby brother,” Mycroft crouched down in front of him and cautiously reached up to take his hand. “I've already discussed it with John, and that landlady of yours, he can move in with you.”

Sherlock watched his brother closely, completely still.

“Lock?” Mycroft shook his hand. “Sherlock!”

“Hmm.”

John reached around and cupped Sherlock's cheek, tilting his head back so he could see his face.

“Whatever you are thinking, stop.”

“Don't you want me here anymore?” He asked Mycroft quietly, he fought his way off John's lap and sat on the floor. He brought his still too thin legs to his chest and used still too thin arms to wrap around them.

“Oh, Sherlock.” Mycroft bent over and tried wrapping his arms around his brother. After a moment, Sherlock ceased struggling and let the older Holmes envelope him in a hug. The insecurity of the boy… he glanced up at the doctor and inclined his head.

“Sherlock,” John tried crouching down in the gap between the subs and the coffee table. “You've seen the finished contract, we've both signed it

“I'm not trying to get rid of you, little brother,” Mycroft continued. “I thought you'd like to start again with John. At home. I know you're comfortable now and that you miss it.”

“Mrs. Hudson,” he whispered after a moment.

“Yes. You can see her.”

Sherlock nodded this time. “Don't want to stay there. Want to stay here. With you,” he added.

Mycroft sighed internally, he was lucky he had got his brother to sign a contract, because for some reason he didn't want to be out of his sight for more than a couple of hours. He didn't deserve that. He had left him with some mad bitch and allowed the abuse to continue. It had only been by accident he had realised…

Even so, he would much rather this situation than the alternative of his brother never wanting to speak or see him.

***

Some hours later, Sherlock glanced up at the sound of Mrs. Hudson's chatter. The boy looked towards his Dom.

“Go on,” John nodded once and Sherlock scrambled to his feet, running off towards the door.

The older Holmes swung the door open and held it for Sherlock's old landlady, although she had been far more than that over the years. She'd always been there as he and Mycroft were growing up. Even in America she had kept in touch.

“Sherlock, dear,” she offered softly as she entered the room, handing the basket she was carrying to Mycroft.

The government official took the basket without complaint. He ruffled his little brother's curls as he was enveloped in a hug that wasn't entirely unwanted.

“Hello, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock replied, it was almost a relief to see her. She hadn't changed at all. The last time they'd met was when Molly had had to go away for a few days at the start of their contract… before it had taken such a turn for the worse. He was sure if things had already changed between he and his old Domme, then Mrs. Hudson would have noticed. She had always been observant in those ways.

“I'll give you a moment alone.” Mycroft moved to step back out of Sherlock's rooms after placing the basket on the table.

"No,” Sherlock whimpered, he wanted - _needed_ \- him here. Even with John.

That reaction didn't surprise Mycroft as much as it should have done, but it most definitely surprised Mrs. Hudson. The last she knew, Sherlock hated his brother, he went out of his way to avoid him. Apparently not anymore. She glanced between the two Holmes boys and sighed. It didn't take much of an effort to work out what was going on even without the details. Mycroft was feeling guilty and was trying his upmost to repent for that, for whatever he had done wrong.

“Alright, little brother.” He took his hand as Sherlock was released from another hug. “Why don't you introduce Mrs. Hudson to your new Dom?”

“You've contracted, Sherlock?” She asked, surprised. Yet another shock. Especially if Sherlock had gone through what had happened so recently.

The boy nodded. “He changed the contract and everything… changed it so there was only things in it that I liked.”

She didn't point out that that was the way contracts were supposed to work because she saw the excitement in his face.

“I've missed you, dear,” she said cupping his cheek.

He grinned and then pulled his hand away from Mycroft and skipped in the direction of where John was waiting.

***

When she finally caught up with the boy he was on John's lap.

“Mrs. Hudson, this is my new Dom; Doctor John Watson. Sir, this is Mrs. Hudson.”

The older woman's eyes widened slightly at how easily he spoke such respect and how relaxed he seemed to be.

“Hop up, pet,” the doctor ordered, nibbling at his ear and patting his hip at the same time.

With a mock pout, he slid from his lap and collapsed into the seat beside him.

John stood and held his hand out, “Mrs. Hudson, I've heard so much about you.”

The landlady's gaze flickered towards Sherlock, “Really?”

“Trust me, it's all good. He hasn't had a bad word to say about you.”

She smiled, “Mycroft says you're not ready to come back yet, Sherlock?” She asked, gathering up the basket and pulling out many plates of home baked cookies and cakes.

The boy turned his head into John's shoulder, glad he had sat back down.

“It's alright,” she hastily assured him, handing him a scone. “You're favourite,” she added.

Cautiously, he reached out a hand. When it wasn't smacked away he took a scone and handed it to John.

The blond smiled softly at both Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. He broke off a chunk and began to feed it to the boy like a baby bird.

“Sherlock wants to remain here for a while longer,” Mycroft informed the older woman, settling in his own armchair. “It's absolutely no problem with me. I can continue to pay you for his flat in Baker Street in order to keep it until he's ready.”

“Of course, dear,” she understood completely as she, too, settled down while Mycroft leant forward to pour the tea and hand out the cups. “There's no hurry, Sherlock, whenever you and this fine Dom of yours are ready.”

Mrs. Hudson wasn't as shocked to find the boy contracted with a male Dom as she perhaps should have been. The few other women she had ever seen him with had never ended well.

However, watching the way this new doctor handled Sherlock, she had nothing to worry about with her favourite tenant. Nothing at all.


	13. Chapter 13

The next few weeks were difficult. Mycroft was away a lot more for work, sometimes going away for a period of a few days. Sherlock was anxious through that time, but he never complained.

John had moved into the quarters at the club permanently with Sherlock to look after him for Mycroft until he was ready to go back to Baker Street.

Mrs. Hudson made regular visits to check on them, always bringing with her cookies or cake. Sherlock loved it, and it was something the doctor was glad for because at least the boy ate on his own.

The trouble came on the third week. Sherlock had been becoming restless for a few days and it had obviously become too much that morning.

He was now pacing and destroying anything in his path. John came back from an early shift at the hospital he worked at to find the entire room trashed. Books that had been on shelves littered the floor, the table was upside down, the few chairs were on their sizes and one was as far as broken, 3 legs missing.

“Sherlock!” John barked the second he saw the state of the place. He would have gone for a gentler option if he a) thought it might work and b) hadn't known something like this was likely to happen.

The boy appeared from the bathroom, his arms across his chest and a scowl on his face. “What?” He snapped. He looked pissed off that the Dom had interrupted his destructive path.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. What do you want?”

The doctor took a slow deep breath and swallowed. He reached back with a purposeful movement, closing and locking the door.

“Come here.”

The result was the bathroom door slamming with the sub on the wrong side of it.

There was no lock on it, John always worried the boy would lock himself away inside it when he had a panic attack so he had requested it be removed. Right now, he was glad.

He stepped within talking distance and called out clearly. “You have until the count of three to come out voluntarily, Sherlock, or your punishment will be a lot worse.”

At the same time, he was thinking over the punishments he had at his disposal for a damaged sub such as Sherlock. He wanted to avoid being physical with him, at least until they had established a more… intense relationship. The boy wasn't ready for that yet. Not after Molly.

“One.”

There was a loud bang from the other side of the door.

“Two.”

This time it sounded like the bin had been thrown.

“Three,” he stepped forward as he spoke and grabbed the door handle, yanking it hard.

Sherlock spun on his heel to glare at him.

“You were warned,” the Dom said as he reached out a hand and snagged the boy by the curls.

John dragged him, thrashing, from the bathroom. He dropped him to his knees by the door to the apartment.

“Stay,” he ordered sharply as he opened the door.

He heard Sherlock get to his feet and sighed.

“Cuffs,” he demanded the guard at the door.

When he turned, he saw Sherlock plotting another disappearing act.

He reclaimed his grip on his curls and pushed him into a nearby wall.

“This attitude of yours is unacceptable,” John told him, as he pulled his arms around behind his sub and cuffed them there. He made sure not to squeeze them too tightly on his wrists, but enough for him to know they were there.

He hooked a leash onto Sherlock's new contract collar and began to drag him towards the door. When the boy tried digging his heels in, John took him by the wrists and pushed them up his back, then he tried taking him to the door again.

John took him passed the guard at the door that followed them all the way through the club to Mycroft's office door. He knocked sharply and then shoved Sherlock in.

“John?” Mycroft looked up from his desk in surprise.

“My apologies, Mycroft, but I need that room you had prepared.”

“Get off!” Sherlock hissed, trying to tug his arms free, despite knowing it wasn't going to happen.

“Ah, of course, John.”

“I knew this was coming,” the blond continued. “He's been getting shifty for days.”

“I'm afraid to say it will likely happen more and more the longer you're contracted together.”

“I am here!” Sherlock snapped petulantly stamping his foot at the same time.

John ignored him. “It's fine. I was well warned. It's actually nice knowing he trusts me enough to act like this.”

The government official was routing through one of his drawers until he found a key, then he got to his feet and unlocked a side door from his office.

“Lock yourself away on occasion, do you, Mycroft?” The boy snarled, still struggling in the Dom's grip.

“No, baby brother,” he replied calmly, why lie? “John requested it be here for your benefit.”

Sherlock frowned, turned his glare away from his brother and onto John.

“What?”

“When I punish you, I want you to know Mycroft's here.”

Sherlock knew, when he'd calmed down, he would feel guilty for this, but right now he couldn't care less.

The Dom dragged him through to the room and pushed him to his knees.

“You may stay if you like, Mycroft,” John offered, moving into the room without holding his sub as he fetched better equipment from the shelves around the edges.

“It's alright, John, I trust you. Would you have suggested it be here, otherwise?”

“At least keep an eye on the security feed?”

The older Holmes nodded once, then backed out of the room.

John placed all the equipment he planned on using on the desk and then pulled Sherlock to his feet again.

The boy was looking around in confusion. The room wasn't big, there wasn't the space for it to be, but it was resourceful.

“Kneel.” By making it an order, the Dom was giving his sub the opportunity to obey of his own accord and make this easier on himself.

Not to his surprise, Sherlock ignored him.

It didn't take much to get the boy back on his knees and he quickly swapped his usual collar for a posture one. It kept his head held high and should give him difficulty balancing, therefore making his fighting ability a little less profound.

Before he could argue, he slipped a small ball gag into his mouth, buckled it up and attached it to the clip at the back of the collar. Then he stepped away to let the brat fight himself for a while.

The doctor left him to struggle until he nearly overbalanced and he had to catch him, then he grabbed the blindfold off the desk and slipped it over his head.

Headphones followed shortly, completely muting out all noise as well blocking his sight. Sherlock stilled immediately. He couldn't fight if he couldn't see or hear.

John nodded to himself once and settled down into the armchair in the corner, Sherlock would relax sooner or later.


	14. Chapter 14

Observing Sherlock told John what he already knew. The boy clearly had a lot of excess energy, he didn't settle until over an hour later. The doctor was impressed at his stamina, not that he would tell his sub that, many subs would have fought the deprivation for up to 10 minutes, but not his sub. _His_ sub. It felt weird to think it, but even weirder when he said it.

John would rectify the energy problem at some point, but this current situation had to be priority.

Sherlock was clearly testing him, he hadn't had to be punished yet and he had said to Mycroft earlier that he knew there must have been trust building for the boy to act up in the first place.

When Sherlock had been completely still for 10 minutes, John got up and walked towards him. He dropped his hand in his curls and Sherlock's still position became rigid. No doubt trying to deduce what was about to happen without being able to hear or see.

John unclipped the gag and tugged it out of Sherlock's mouth, prepared for any vitriol. It didn't come. He brushed his hand through his sweaty curls, calmly; soothing.

Then he backed away. It was time to see just how much Sherlock trusted him now, and this seemed like the only way he would get a truthful response. Wait and see how he reacted.

Since all his senses had been cut off, Sherlock had slowly shut down; his mind rebooting. When it came back online, his attitude was gone to be replaced by a well trained, subdued submissive. Ready to please to prevent punishment that would come anyway.

John smiled when a further 10 minutes passed and Sherlock still hadn't spoken.

The Dom followed the same stage as before, but this time he removed the headphones that had been blocking all noise from the sub. He knew, even in the short space of time that he had known the boy, that Sherlock relied on his senses far more than anyone else.

He left it the same amount of time again, but this time he removed the collar and the blindfold at the same time. Once he'd chucked both items to the side, he crouched down and cupped the kneeling sub's cheek. “Head clear now?”

“Yes, sir,” Sherlock whispered, his eyes not focused; drifted.

The doctor didn't like his tone… or that look on his eyes, he was… vacant?

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir,” the response had been identical to the first in every way.

This wasn't good, he wasn't… there. It was too… not Sherlock like. This was like the sherlock he had met that very first day.

“Babe, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing, sir.”

John shook his head, something wasn't right. Something was really really wrong.

“Mycroft!” He yelled.

In a matter of seconds Mycroft had charged in through the door, before he could ask what John wanted, he spotted his brother.

“What did you do?” Mycroft asked; it wasn't an accusation.

“Sensory deprivation.”

The older Holmes watched them for a while and then sighed. “Of course.”

John didn't respond for a moment, choosing instead to focus on his boy. He set about removing the cuffs and threw them to the side, then he pulled him to his feet and lifted him up into his arms.

Mycroft watched as the the Dom carried his brother across the room and settled in the sofa that was in one corner. As he sat, he held Sherlock close. As close as he could. “What?” He finally asked, realising what the government official had said.

“For a Holmes, senses are everything,” he replied, as if that would clarify everything.

“Hence why I shut them down. He's calmed considerably.”

“It worked, John,” Mycroft nodded. “But perhaps too well. My little brother calls his brain his hard drive.”

“Yes. I know. Would you like to explain what you're talking about in English so I can do what needs to be done?”

“What happens when you reboot a computer?” Mycroft countered with a question of his own.

John didn't like this analogy at all, it sounded like it was designed to fail. “It goes back to how it was before.”

“Before what?”

“It goes back to the last place you saved it.”

Mycroft tilted his head on one side. “Quite so. Well… the last place Sherlock was 'saved', so to speak, was Hooper.”

John's horror was apparent to see, he buried his face in Sherlock's curls, hoping it would help, help to bring Sherlock back to the present. He had really really fucked up, why wasn't Mycroft going mad? Demanding he leave at once? Or one further, killing him and dumping him in the Thames.

“I've… broken him,” he croaked out.

“No. No, John,” Mycroft hastened to reassure the blond. “Absolutely not. Look, he's already coming back to himself.”

Sherlock was pressing his body into the doctor more as minutes trickled by. Relaxing, becoming the more pliable submissive that John had grown to love, than the rigid one, the one that came about at the beginning when Sherlock had thought he'd done something wrong.

The doctor glanced up, worry plain to see. That was how Mycroft knew this Dom was right for Sherlock; his concern from the moment he had called the older man in.

“I don't understand,” John whispered.

“Once you've opened a saved document you can still edit it.” Mycroft winked at his brother's Dom, then turned on his heel.

“Mycroft! You can't leave!” John yelled after the disappearing government official.

“Doctor Watson, I trust you. My brother has relaxed considerably since being in your lap and it has only been a matter of minutes. You should believe in yourself more. Come and find me when you're done, I'll have Anthea make us some tea.”

John stared at the door, even after it shut. He stared at it for a very long time until Sherlock shifted in his lap. He kissed his boy's temple. Bloody Holmeses!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks!

It was a further 6 weeks before Sherlock was ready to face the outside world on a more proactive basis. He had set up a website, made a close connection to a man at New Scotland Yard, but more importantly, John had signed a more permanent contract and they'd both moved in with Mrs. Hudson.

Mycroft hadn't minded how long it had taken. Sherlock had contracted with John so he hadn't had to call in favours to defend his little brother's single status.

Mrs. Hudson had been overjoyed to have 'her boy' back and she took to John immediately, much like she had to Sherlock many years before. The younger man was extremely grateful for that, it wouldn't do for Mrs. Hudson to clash with John, if it was even possible to clash with the ex-army Dom and his forever lasting patience.

The boy was currently laid out on the sofa in the sitting room of 221B, his head in John's lap. It felt good to be back, but was so different with a Dom there as well.

“You alright, pet?” The doctor ran his hand through his curls, smoothing them back and twisted his fingers amongst the mass.

Sherlock frowned at the question. “Yes, sir. Why?”

John hummed, flicking the tv channel over. “You're quiet, that's all.”

“Hmm,” he shifted his head slightly in John's lap, breathing in the older man's smell was comforting. “Thinking, sir.”

“Sounds ominous.” John stared down at his boy, watching closely.

“About Lestrade.” He shifted his head to stare up at his Dom. “He contacted me, said he has another case he might be able to let me in on.”

“That's good, isn't it?”

“Yes, sir,” but Sherlock's voice was resigned, he didn't sound very sure of himself. Like he didn't belong.

“What's the matter, babe?” He tightened his grip slightly, reassuringly. Sherlock always responded well to that.

“What if I get it wrong, sir? I'll make you look like an idiot, I can't do that.”

“Well that won't happen,” the blond said confidently.

“Why won't it?”

“Because you won't get anything wrong and even if you did, I can protect myself from idiocy.”

“But you could still end up looking like an idiot, sir.”

“I'm an army doctor, I'm sure I'll manage.”

Sherlock let out a small laugh at that. “Yes, sir. I suppose you will.”

***

“Are you sure, Sherlock? Absolutely certain?” Greg Lestrade stood with his arms folded over the two corpses at their feet.

“Yes!” The detective snapped, which was shortly followed by a whack across the back of the head from his Dom. “Sorry, sir,” he whispered.

Lestrade merely winked and turned back to another member of the Yard. “Have Leeroy arrest the gardener.”

“Sir-”

“Just do it!” The DI ordered. Why couldn't they do as they were told? Bloody insubordinate Doms. Nothing but a pain to work with.

The officer ducked his head and turned on his heel, eager to get out of the room as quickly as possible.

Sherlock watched him go with a slight smirk on his face, John watched it to see if it would become arrogance, but it didn't. He hated to admit he was slightly surprised. He'd underestimated his submissive, it wasn't something he did often. He continued to watch as he gathered up his own coat and John's before helping his Dom put it on.

“Are we done here, Lestrade?” The sub asked, watching his Dom out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes,” the DI nodded his head jerkily. “Yes, you are. Thanks for your help, Sherlock.”

The consulting detective nodded once in return before walking out of the apartment, not pausing to wait for his Dom. It didn't annoy John, in fact he found it amusing.

“Oh and Sherlock-”

“07717205062.”

“What?”

“My brother's number. It was what you were about to ask me, was it not?”

Lestrade looked completely taken aback. “Well yes,” he cleared his throat awkwardly before turning to John, his hand held out. Perfect change in subject.

The doctor shook it. “Good to meet you.”

“Sherlock, could you say it again?”

“I'll text you it,” Sherlock rolled his eyes and skipped down the stairs.

“Alright, explain,” the Dom ordered when he caught his sub up. He was zooming off up the street, his hands in his jacket pockets and his coat billowing out behind him. He reached out and flicked his collar up.

“Explain what?”

“Don't start showing off, boy, you know it doesn't work with me.”

“Sorry, sir,” Sherlock sighed, with a small smile. “He was far too helpful, too eager. He met my brother last week on that case he turned up at and hasn't been able to think of anyone or anything else.”

“You are an insufferable prat.”

“Isn't that why you love me, sir?”

John wrapped his arms around his boy as they hailed a cab. “Maybe. Just maybe, you are right.”

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by the brilliant sherlockian4evr who I believe is having a difficult time letting go of mean!molly too


End file.
